با داستان، مضمون و حس این آهنگ بیشتر آشنا شوید.
Ready for war, Joe, how you wanna blow they spot? | I know these dirty cops that'll get us in if we murder some wop | Hop in your Hummer, the Punishe…
("I can feel it!")
Ready for war, Joe, how you wanna blow they spot?
I know these dirty cops that'll get us in if we murder some wop
Hop in your Hummer, the Punisher's ready
Meet me at Vito's with Noodles
We'll do this dude while he's slurpin' spaghetti
Everybody kiss the fuckin' floor
Joey Crack, buck 'em all if they move-
Noodles, shoot that fuckin' whore!
Dead in the middle of Little Italy
Little did we know that we riddled some middlemen who didn't do diddly
It'll be a cold day in Hell the day I take an L
Make no mistake for real, I wouldn't hesitate to kill
I'm still the fat one that you love to hate
Catch you at your mother's wake
Smack you, then I whack you with my snub three-eight
I rub your face off the Earth and curse your family's children
Like Amityville, and drill the nerves in your cavity fillin'
Insanity's buildin' a pavilion in my civilian
The cannon be the anarchy that humanity's dealin'
A villain without remorse who's willin' to out your boss forever
And take all the cheddar like child support
I support Pun in anything he does, anything he loves
My brother from another mother, sent from the above
A thug nigga just like me; one of the best, might be even better
Leavin' niggas kneelin' on they right knee
Spike Lee couldn't paint a better picture
You small change, I'm blowin' out your brains, gettin' richer
Hit you with the MAC (MAC), smack your bitch, nigga what?
You gettin' stuck, my trigger finger's itchy as a fuck
Truck jewels (jewels), cruisin' in the Land, bumpin' "Cash Rules"
Last crew to want it caught a hundred tryna pass through
That's true! (So who the next to get it?)
T.S. the best that did it
(Get it off your chest, kid, admit it, and it's...)
Yeah, and you don't stop!
20-shot Glock with the cop-killers, fill 'em to the top
Yeah, and you don't stop!
Joey cracks the rock, and Big Pun keeps the guns cocked
Yeah, and you don't stop!
We'll make it hot, nigga, what? Bring it, I blow your whole spot
Yeah, and you don't stop!
It's still one-eight-seven on an undercover cop
Fuck the police, I squeeze first, make 'em eat dirt
Take 'em feet-first through the morgue, then lodge 'em in the deep earth
The street's cursed, the First Amendment's culturally biased
Supposed to supply us with rights
Tonight, I hold my rosaries tight as I can
I'm one man against the world, just me and my girl
Black Pearl Latina, más fina, but keeps it real
You know the deal, we steal from the rich and keep it
Peep it, it's no secret, watch me and Joe go back and forth and freak it
Creep with me, as I cruise in my Bimmer
All the kids in the ghetto call me "Don Cartagena"
Kickin' ass as I blast off heat, and
You never see me talk to police
Though you should know that I really don't care
Pull you by the hair, slit your throat
And I'll leave you right there, so beware
It's rare that niggas want beef
Big Pun, speak, and let these motherfuckers know how we run the streets
Fuck peace, I run the streets deep with no compassion
Puerto Ricans known for slashin'
Catchin' niggas while they sleepin', no relaxin'
Keep your eyes open, sharp reflexes
Three TECs is in the Jeep Lexus just in case police test us
Street professors, Terror Squad, ghetto scholars
Full-of-clips mob, inflicts the fear of God when the metal hollers
Better acknowledge or get knocked down
Until I'm locked and shot down
Heather B. couldn't make me put my Glock down
We lock towns like rounds in the chamber
Boogie Down major like Nine, I bust mine every time
Plus, I'm the crime boss of New York
Where we taught to walk the walk, all my niggas carry chalk
And stalk our prey like a predator
Whoever want it, go and get it; set it, baby, and I'ma bury ya
So remember the Squad that I'm reppin'
I fill a clip of my weapon and punish niggas 'til it's armageddon
Yeah, and you don't stop!
20-shot Glock with the cop-killers, fill 'em to the top
Yeah, and you don't stop!
Joey cracks the rock, and Big Pun keeps the guns cocked
Yeah, and you don't stop!
We'll make it hot, nigga, what? Bring it, I blow your whole spot
Yeah, and you don't stop!
It's still one-eight-seven on an undercover cop
Yeah, and you don't stop!
20-shot Glock with the cop-killers, fill 'em to the top
Yeah, and you don't stop!
Joey cracks the rock, and Big Pun keeps the guns cocked
Yeah, and you don't stop!
We'll make it hot, nigga, what? Bring it, I blow your whole spot
Yeah, and you don't stop!
It's still one-eight-seven on an undercover copهنوز آهنگ مشابهی نیست.